


Transference and Countertransference

by peternurphy



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Character study through porn, Dominance Struggle, Inappropriate use of Magic/Powers, M/M, Masturbation, Medium: Fanfiction - Freeform, Sex Magic, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:38:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/pseuds/peternurphy
Summary: Loki flees Asgard after having his mouth sewn shut by Brokkr and Sindri. Odin finds him.





	Transference and Countertransference

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/gifts).



“You’re not as difficult to find as you think you are.”

Loki glanced up from the bed he was sitting on at the speaker. It was only a momentary glance; he barely made eye contact before he looked back down at the bloody strings of leather in his hands. He said nothing in response, and continued to pick at the fraying of the threads.

“You’ve decided to keep your silence? That’s a shame. I actually found myself missing the sound of your voice.”

Loki laughed. He tossed the threads at his visitor and looked back up to see him catch the strips in a bare hand. “You came all the way just to hear me?” he asked. His voice was soft from lack of use; he tasted blood still on his tongue. Odin approached the bed, and Loki instinctively pulled back and curled his legs in on himself. “Well, I’m  _ flattered _ — but you can leave.”

Odin did not leave. He reached over to place a hand on Loki’s knee, and Loki almost recoiled at him, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth. “I said you could leave,” he repeated.

“You were hurt. I only came to see how you were.”

Loki uncovered his mouth as he glared at Odin. Mimicry had always been a particular talent of his, and now he channelled it - shifting the chords of his throat to repeat the gentle words, pushing poisoned barbs through them. “ _ You were hurt, _ ” he said. “ _ I only came to see how you were. _ ”

“That isn’t necessary, Loki.”

He had always hated that stern tone Odin took with him. He kicked his legs out - if he felt small in the presence of the other god, he certainly would not show it. “What’s unnecessary is your presence,” he said. Despite his efforts to seem dignified, to not appear as if he required Odin’s scolding, he crossed his arms over his chest and huffed to push the hair out of his face. Odin reached over to pull the strand aside, and Loki hated himself for how he leaned his head against the touch.

“If you had asked me to help get the stitches out, I would have,” said Odin. “I understand you felt humiliated, I understand it hurt - but I would have helped.” He moved closer to Loki on the bed and continued to push the hair from Loki’s face, before lowering fingertips to his lips. Loki stared into his eye as he felt his fingers brush against open wounds in his mouth, listened to Odin murmur a charm over them. He swayed unintentionally with the low, gruff singing.

The charm ended. Loki flicked his tongue out to feel the wounds - now scars on his mouth. “It would have healed better had you not ripped it out so violently,” said Odin, and Loki huffed again. “You’re welcome.”

Odin stood up from the bed. Loki did not move; he did not even shift his gaze from where the god once stood. He kept licking at his lips and twitching them experimentally. They still hurt to move, and when he smiled he felt the left side of his mouth twist as it tried to pull up. 

“Remember how I used to thank you?” he asked. Odin turned, and Loki kept the smile. Perhaps, he thought, it gave him an aura of coyness, fitting what he alluded to as he stretched out on the bed. Odin’s eyebrow raised.

“If that’s an offer, I’m happy to take it.”

“I’d sooner bite it off.”

Odin sighed. Loki crossed his arms and tightened his position back. “Are you going to leave me now?” he asked.

“I don’t think I should.” Odin undid the pin that fastened his cloak and tossed it onto the foot of the bed. Loki observed in silence as he wandered through the small house. Loki had rented it from some widow— had tossed her more money than she’d likely seen in her life, locked himself in the house, ripped out his stitches, and fumed to himself. Odin continued to survey the room, glancing over the currently unlit hearth and exploring various boxes and cupboards from the previous occupant.

Odin had opened a chest against the wall, and from it he produced a  _ Tafl _ board. He closed the chest and set the board on the flat top, then beckoned for Loki to approach. Loki’s first impulse was to protest. Nonetheless, he found himself wanting to play. He had been alone for quite a while now, and he never could resist a game. Odin smiled (evenly, to Loki’s annoyance) as Loki walked over and sat with his legs crossed.

“You play as the king, of course,” said Odin. He set that piece in the center of the board. “How about this: the king escapes, and I leave you to sulk as long as you’d like. But if I capture you, then I will stay and we’ll actually have the  _ discussion _ that we’ve needed for so long.” 

“I lose and you fuck me. Understood.”

Again, Odin sighed. He took one of the attacking pieces and moved it outwards. Loki immediately saw what he was doing. Odin’s pieces formed a blockade, so that Loki’s king could not reach the edge of the board and win him the game. Loki moved with his defender in the same direction. He would have to capture pieces quickly.

Odin continued moving his attackers outwards. Loki had to move two of his defenders at a time to attempt to capture them. When he saw Odin begin to move pieces at the opposite side of the bored, he gritted his teeth. Why wasn’t Odin capturing the pieces Loki was taking the offense with? Was he mocking him?

Loki captured the first piece off of the board. He picked up the bit of dark, carved wood in between his index and middle finger, then set it in front of himself. Odin smiled. Loki glanced down again, and found that Odin had moved to immediately capture his piece in turn. Loki moved his king instead.

Normally over these games they would talk. Loki would fire insults and challenges at Odin; Odin would give leading questions about his moves or what he said. It would be lively and fun. But Loki simply moved his king around the board in silence, and watched as Odin alternated between blocking him off and capturing pieces.

Soon Loki only had his king and one other piece. It sat at the edge of the board, so very close to one of the corners. Odin moved one of his attackers directly next to the king, and Loki smirked as he captured it with his last remaining defender. But another of Odin’s pieces slid into place, and slender fingers took hold of the defender, and Loki saw that it blocked off his king against the side.

Loki frowned down at the board. He counted the squares again - sure enough, the king was captured. There were two equally odious options here: the first that Odin had out-strategized him. He seldom did win against Odin in these games (or outside of them). Odin always seemed to be able to anticipate his moves, to thwart the ones he didn’t want and to urge on those that would lead Loki to his own destruction. The second was that Odin had not out-strategized him. Odin had made more mistakes in the game than usual; Loki had failed to take advantage of them as he saw him. As if he  _ wanted _ -

“Fine,” said Loki. He crossed his arms. “Whatever. You win.” He scowled down at the board and let his hair fall back to cover his face. Odin stood up slowly. Now Loki felt his presence looming over him. Odin was nowhere near as physically powerful as Thor, or even Heimdall. He was tall enough to seem a proper general, but only a few finger-widths above Loki. Even his face was rather gaunt and tired-looking, framed by a short black beard. Nothing about him should have spoken power, but Loki could feel almost physical waves of energy pushing towards him. 

“Stand, please,” said Odin. Loki stayed seated and glancing over the board. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this. He did like the things Odin could do to him, and the tone of the order made his stomach feel weightless for several seconds. But he refused to simply go along with the orders. He glanced sidelong up and twirled a few strands of red hair around his finger.

He could only do so for one cycle. Odin grabbed the back of his tunic and lifted roughly. Loki was forced into a standing position, and glared upwards as Odin stared down at him. “With the way you act, I ought to have you go out and cut some switches,” he said. 

“Fine.”

Odin raised his eyebrow. “Of course, if I sent you out alone, there would be no stopping you from turning into a bird and flying off, would there?”

“I would have to return to Asgard eventually, wouldn’t I?” asked Loki. He reached for his arm and pulled the long, bony fingers off of his collar. “You used to trust me so easily. You’ll have to do the same here.”

He heard Odin draw in breath, but he did nothing to stop Loki as he walked towards the door. Loki gave his new, warped smile as he slipped out the door. Once he was outside, it immediately fell. He glanced up into the open sky. There were no boundaries there - not even a single cloud to block his flight to wherever he so desired. He began to shift his left forearm into a wing; he felt as feathers began to spring from his skin and his bones begin to hollow.

Then in an instant he snapped his arm back to a human’s. He would return to Asgard after a few days, and he would refuse to look Odin in the eye for at least a month after. And then they would return to that now unbreakable tension, and Loki would still be bitter and angry, and Odin would still be smug and unbearable. Just thinking about it made Loki conjure up flame in his hand and fire it into the ground.

So, he decided, he would do it.  _ You want me to cut a switch? I’ll cut a switch _ . He muttered curses to himself as he found a willow tree standing alongside the banks of a brook; shifted his fingers into sharp claws to slice off the switches and strip away the twigs and leaves. Soon he had six switches in his hands. He swung one experimentally and winced at the sound.

When he returned to the house, Odin was stood with his back to the door. He was studying the gameboard again; he didn’t even turn as Loki slipped inside. He walked up to the chest and dropped the sticks on it. One knocked over one of the wooden pieces, and it rolled and shifted the layout of the board. “See?” he asked. “We still have something.”

“You’ve knocked over the game.”

“We finished the game.”

Odin only responded by looking into Loki’s face. “Fix it,” he said, gathering up the switches in his hand. “Put it back to how it was.”

“Are you  _ serious _ -”

“Put it back, Loki.”

Loki huffed and glanced at the board. He could not remember how he had left it. He pursed his lips against each other, and felt another twitch of his muscles as new scars protested the motion; his fingers glanced over the knocked over pieces and placed them upright. “There,” he said, although he knew that this was not how it had been.

“Come on, I know you’re cleverer than that.” 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to memorize the fucking board—”

“Put it back.”

Loki muttered a curse, and Odin glanced aside. Somehow, Loki knew a second would not be excused so easily. He lifted the dark pieces of carved wood into the positions on the board that he could recall. When one was placed down the proper location for the other became apparent. Soon he had formed the remnants of their symbolic battle, as well as the wall against the side of the board that had held his king. 

That was the only piece remaining out of place. Loki’s hand shook as he held it; he glanced up at Odin. “Come on,” said Odin, as he swished the switches through the air. He had divided them into two small birches of three twigs, and the one he held in his right hand consisted of the shorter twigs. Loki bit hard into scars on his lower lip as he set the king in its prison.

Odin nodded. He moved over to the bed and sat at the edge, legs slightly apart. “Come here,  _ køuærne _ ,” he said, and Loki didn’t even balk at the pet name. He walked over and laid himself across Odin’s thigh, glancing back at him as he lifted the hems of his tunics and reached under to undo the drawstring of his trousers. Loki’s hips undulated against the hand, stimulating himself against Odin’s hand and then his thigh once the hand drew back.

“I’ll keep the other for if you need another reminder,” said Odin softly. Loki narrowed his eyes. He had formed a barbed retort somewhere in his throat, had opened his lips to throw it at Odin, when the first stroke of the birch landed and his words collapsed into a cry of pain. He shoved his face against the bed and grabbed the covers as more strokes fell and cut into his flesh. He squirmed against Odin’s leg and openly cried out and growled, but still allowed himself to be held fast by the hand that gripped his waist. 

The pain had begun as individual lines that stung and made him gnash his teeth. But that was bearable. Loki had felt pain before, and after having his lips pierced through by a dull awl some swats from a willow switch were nothing. The stinging lines would fade down enough just before the next hit would come, and Loki could manage by simply squirming in place.

But the burning grew. The pain took longer and longer to fade, and the lines spread as if it were a burn. Loki kicked out and lurched himself forwards, only to be tugged back by the back of his tunic. “Easy,  _ køuærne,”  _ said Odin. Loki tensed in anticipation of more strokes, but none came. Odin reached up and ran fingers down the length of Loki’s hair. He kept them around his neck and rubbed small circles, and Loki found the muscles in his back relaxing out of their tension. Odin murmured softly to him; Loki barely listened to what he was saying.

Not all of him was relaxed, however. Loki’s cock had gone from half-hard to fully hard, and he shifted his hips against Odin’s leg again to ease up the pain with some pleasure. Odin didn’t stop him, and didn’t stop running fingers gently through the length of Loki’s hair. Loki shut his eyes and let soft fires glow from his fingertips once he let go of the sheets. 

“Wouldn’t you rather be taken properly?” asked Odin. Loki nodded, and fingers slid between the cleft of his now striped ass to tease against his entrance. He shimmied his hips slightly and listened as Odin began to speak a charm under his breath.

And then Loki had an idea. He stopped moving and formed his fingers into the sign of  _ Uruz _ , murmuring his own charms into it before he would launch back and strike. Odin didn’t seem to be listening to him - instead he intently focused on pushing now lubricated fingers into Loki, breaching him before pulling back out to draw more of the ephemeral fluid. Loki wanted this - but his spite was as base a desire as his lust. Besides, it had been ages since  _ he  _ had penetrated.

The charms reached their completion, a short and blunt thing that Loki kept clasped in his left hand. He glanced back; he saw Odin staring down between his legs as he did his work. He would just have to wait for those teasing fingers to exit him again-

He struck.

Odin shouted in surprise as the runestaff hit his jaw. He pulled back, and Loki took the opportunity to fling himself up and into the ceiling. There he clung, staring down at Odin and crawling around where the wall met the roof. His arms bent back behind his shoulders as he thrust his chest and head forwards, smirking at him. His trousers had fallen onto the floor. “It’s funny,” he said. “You know what I am, you know what my nature is - yet you thought I’d just lay and let you take me, didn’t you?”

“I had no expectations of such, no.”

Loki tossed his head and laughed. His hair fell forwards and hung about his face like it was dripping red from the sides, and the laugh was loud enough to stir the fire and make it flare up. Odin maintained eye contact with the god in the corner. He held his hands out; Loki saw that they were empty. Still, he threw down another bolt of fire for Odin to sidestep. “You invited a fire into your home, thinking you could tame it-”

“I never meant to tame you-”

“Then what did you want?! Why did you mix your blood into mine?!”

His words came out with more fire, but instead of a controlled jet towards Odin the flame spread out haphazardly. The pieces on the gameboard were charred by Loki’s anger, and the smell of burning hair floated towards his nose. The switches fell to the ground as ash. But Odin held a hand out to him regardless. “Why did you?”

The fire dimmed. Loki’s lips hung open, his tongue searching for his answer to the question but finding nothing. He glanced aside. “I was drunk,” he said, though both he and Odin knew it was a faulty answer.

“Asgard had grown stagnant. Even with the runes, there was no risk— it may as well have not existed. You were the first thing I came across that felt real.” He paused. “To ‘tame’ you, as you say, would have destroyed that. You brought the rest of them to life. You brought  _ me _ back to life.”

Loki could not look at him. The words washed over him, low and calm, and he felt compelled to curse Odin’s name and climb down and hold him at the same time. He hung in place with his cheeks growing strangely wet, his arms shook as he struggled to keep himself up. When he finally did lower himself, he heard a soft ‘thank you’.

“Don’t touch me.”

Odin nodded. “I won’t,” he said. He kept his hands away from Loki, who pushed hair out of his face to stare up at his blood-brother, his general - the one who loomed so heavily in his thoughts. 

“Don’t touch me, but-”

Somehow that eagerness from earlier had remained, even through his anger and his tears. He shifted uncomfortably as he stared up. Odin smiled. His hands worked, crafting something out of a deep blue light as he moved to sit on the bed. Lines grew across his face as he worked, focusing all of his energy to craft what soon became a phallus. If Loki’s sight had been less sharp, he would have assumed it to be blue stone. Then he held it out to Loki, who nearly smacked it out of his hand as he grabbed it.

Odin nodded as Loki positioned himself over it. The lubricant Odin had created still coated him between his legs, and he sank down onto the creation with ease, groaning slightly. At first it felt like any other carved toy - cool and rigid, only able to push against the right spot if Loki worked it himself. But then Odin’s hand twitched, and Loki gasped as he felt it expand and warm inside of him. Part of it extended to rub against his prostate, and he swore that the thing was  _ moving  _ inside of him, rubbing him like fingers working him over. He almost keened.

Odin’s gaze continued to fix on him. His face had become a small smile, his one eye nearly glowing with the energy he must have been exerting. Loki rocked his pelvis hard and clenched around the phallus until it became too difficult to hold himself up on his knees. Then a particularly strong pressure against his prostate caused him to lose balance, and he fell forwards against Odin’s legs to be held and supported by his arms.

For a moment the stimulation slowed. But as Odin moved to support Loki more comfortably, it returned even stronger than before. He felt Odin’s face near the top of his head, as well as a kiss and soft breath. “Touch yourself. I’ll keep holding you.” And Loki did, working his hand down under his tunic to stroke himself in time with the changing pressure. His breath hitched as he felt the waves of sensation both through his entire body and centralized on his cock, and he jerked up to bury his face in Odin’s lap. One hand stroked his hair again as Loki pumped himself harder and faster, his thumb brushing over the head as the thing inside of him seemed to expand yet again to somehow fill even more of him.

Loki’s moans turned into full on wails against Odin. He screamed against Odin’s tunic and listened as Odin murmured his encouragement. “I’m not taming you,” he murmured against Loki; Loki only moaned out into the room and shook from his thighs up at this. Odin moved the one hand that made the phallus work inside of Loki and reached down to slide a hand under his tunic and hold onto his back. “Are you ready to come?”

Loki did not answer. Instead, he rocked himself as hard as possible against the intrusion as Odin forced a curve into the dildo hard enough to make Loki suddenly arch himself back and pump himself so hard his hand slipped and hit Odin’s knee. He returned his hand and twisted and pumped hard, the sensations melding so much he could barely tell what part of him was where.

And then he jerked and came across the floor. As his hand fell limply his cock twitched slightly, and he panted into Odin’s lap hard enough that he could feel his own breath warm on his face. The thing inside of him did not disappear, however. It simply shrank down until it was a pleasant solidness. Odin continued to stroke his hair. “Are you still angry with me?” 

Loki shook his head. Odin laughed and tapped the back of his head. “Then explain these,” he said. Loki looked up to see that Odin was holding his right hand in front of him. The calluses of the palm were red, standing out from the rest of the skin. Loki smirked.

“You said you weren’t taming me. Fire-”

“Burns, yes, you’ve said so before.”

Loki thought that he should stand. But he stayed in place against the other, and continued to breathe into him. “Idunn will fix it when you return to Asgard,” he said.

“Are you not?”

Loki shrugged. “Eventually,” he said. “But I assume you will first.”

“I don’t intend on returning without you.”

He pulled Loki up into the bed and stretched out, and Loki lay against him with his head pressed to Odin’s chest. He felt no urge to protest.

**Author's Note:**

> I got on a big Norse myth kick (again) and really wanted to write something, so I decided to do a treat for this prompt. I owe a lot of my characterizations to Runemarks by Joanne Harris.
> 
> Also, the game they're playing is called Hnefatafl, which was an old Viking board game. I downloaded an app version so I could have an idea of how it was played, and it turns out I'm really bad at Hnefatafl. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope it fits your interests :33


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